A Part to Play
by REImagination
Summary: -One Shot- Holmes is this close to solving a mass murder case when Lestrade decides to give him something else to do.


**A/N: Hey guys! This is my first time to write a fanfic and I'm starting up with ficlets for now. I have a novel-ish fic coming along. I'm an IreneXHolmes shipper btw, but that doesn't mean there won't be HolmesXWatson bromance *megustaface* , so as practice I'm writing these little babies to warm my fingers and my mind. I'll be uploading each one shot as a different entry though so I hope you read my other fics. :D reviews will be very awesome because I am a N00b.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Holmes nor Lestrade. D:**

The trial droned on during the stuffy summer afternoon, and it interested him so much as Mrs. Hudson's knitting would. Holmes' head bobbed on his shoulder, his neck in danger of snapping, no adversary could defeat him he believes but if he were to be killed by the most unsuspecting reasons this ongoing trial would win first prize, second would be Lestrade's stupidity. He had better things to do; a primate would know that, if only Lestrade did too. _Highly unlikely_

Everything pieced into his mind since the moment he had snapped handcuffs onto the prime suspect. _That man was merely a decoy,a puzzle piece of the plan, a pawn that was made to look like the king. _He knew that, but he wouldn't let the master player think he did. _It was all too easy honestly, now if only the Yard did not invite me to this tea party that is this blasted trial. _ He'd be out there, knocking the real perpetrator out cold, wrap him in decorated paper and strings and leave him outside Scotland Yard as an early holiday present with love from Sherlock Holmes written on the card.

_Protocol, protocol, I may be a man for my nation but damn this trial protocol. _He was to serve as a truth bearer and look out for the session but he sat among the common behind the prosecution bench disguised poorly as one of the murder victims' aging uncle. Lestrade thought himself so clever that incase the witnesses lied or testimonies did not match the findings, Holmes would immediately point that out for the Yard.

_Stupid Lestrade is Stupid._

_There won't be anything to point out; the witnesses are all telling the truth, that is what was fed to them and made them to believe it was the truth. Everything had been cleverly planned and put into action. A beautiful play, a tragedy of sorts, a perfect script of lies and deceit, an array of wonderful actors fulfilling their respective roles so passionate that they've become puppets to their craft leaving their lives in the dear director slash playwright's capable hands. A haunting musical scoring that would etch the story into the audience's minds forever in fear hoping that it would all remain a musical play._

Holmes knew where he'd find his playwright, Holmes knew who he'd find as his playwright, but right now he himself was fulfilling a role in the script. _I'm playing it rather very well_ he knew he did; no one else could play the part of the stage crew who would draw the curtains open during curtain call and present the mind behind the masterpiece better than himself, but right now he was playing the role of the gullible detective, _played it even better, _he had taken advantage of this afternoon's trial for that role proving himself more convincing. Yes, yes, he knew his target would be in his study above the theatre drinking tea as he would every afternoon as Holmes had observed. He would be contemplating and admiring his new masterpiece, _another tragedy I must say_, _another enchanting tragedy to open for the Autumn Musicale Fest, just in time for Halloween._ He'd be calm and sure of himself, no one knows what he had been doing, and for Holmes he was vulnerable, _perfect! _

Holmes shifted his backside onto his left cheek; his right seemed to have fallen asleep in the duration of the trial. He would have to wait till later to enact a play of his own, everything had come together as he planned, but for now he would have to finish the scene of the gullible detective. Slipping a hand into his breast pocket, he felt for his ticket, _just making sure._ He would be watching a play at the Victoria Theatre this evening ,he'd given tickets to Lestrade and his new roommate Watson too, just incase they'd share his cultural inclination. He would need an audience after all, for tonight he'd play the part of the magnificent stage crew.

**Hey Sparreaux here, I'm sorry to these one shots so short since they are just practice pieces for now, ehehe *sweatdrops*  
>Oh and few notes: 1. I'm still trying to grasp Holmes' character and personality so i'm sorry if it's too OOC for you guys. 2. The Victoria Theater, I'm not sure if one really exists, and I'm too lazy to Google it, sorry, but let's just say it's gonna be my own fictional theatre. this is a fanfic after all ^_^ and 3. This takes place just after Watson moves in and they aren't very close yet. I know, I know that's not how Doyle wrote it, but I still have to read Study in Scarlet or really learn how they met. D: FORGIVE ME. and please review. :D<strong>


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